


In The Garden

by Fierceawakening



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: Because there's never enough Gardener!Thanos.Young Gamora is in a bad mood, and Thanos isn't sure why. Wanting to help calm her down, he takes her to the place he goes when he can't shake his own sorrow: the small garden he grows on his ship.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	In The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this unbetaed because I'm about to run off on errands. Edits may ensue. ;-)
> 
> Written as a self-soothing exercise after my grandmother's funeral yesterday. She also grew gardens, and many of my favorite memories are of wandering on little stone paths through her massive back yard, a jungle of beautiful flowers.
> 
> Love you forever, Grandma, and miss you so much. <3
> 
> Standard disclaimer that portraying Thanos sympathetically does not mean that he's a good parent or that the things he's "teaching" his kids are anything but completely fucked up.

His Gamora is in a mood.

He isn’t sure why. Whether she’s just doing the childish things that children do, or whether something real set her off. He’d thought at first that one of her siblings had said something to upset her, but by now she’s picked petty fights with every one of them.

The Maw tried to tell her to stop sulking and remind her that even she had duties, but she’d only challenged him to spar instead of complying.

It made him smile at first, but she doesn’t appear to be solving her problems in the practice room. He looked for her there first, hoping to find a few smashed dummies (or a moderately smashed sibling), but she hadn’t been in any of the sparring rooms all day.

When he finally finds her, it’s in one of the rec rooms, huddled in a corner rather than sitting on a cot. She’s toying with the knife he gave her, balancing it in her palm, and he cracks a smile when he sees she’s done it perfectly.

But from the scowl on her small face and the knot of her brows, getting it right has done nothing to soothe her.

“Little one,” he says.

“Hello, Father.” She looks up but offers no gesture of welcome or deference. It’s almost as if she expects an apology from him for disturbing her game.

Which is entirely inappropriate. But if she’s this careless about her defiance, this isn’t just some petty mood. He lowers himself to his knees to better address her. “Child. What is wrong?”

She narrows her eyes at him, considering.

“Tell me. I will not leave until you do.”

“I miss my mother.”

He winces. He had guesses, but none were anything like... that. “I’m sorry.”

“She wouldn’t like it here.”

“No, I... I don’t imagine she would have.”

Gamora waves the little knife around, as though accusing the walls. “It’s ugly here!”

He frowns. He likes the dark decor. It reminds him to stay focused. Reminds him of the person he must be to do the things he has to do. But he is not a young child, remembering the bright colors of a home world she didn’t know she would lose.

“There’s nothing pretty here at all!” she says.

He smiles.

“That’s not true, little one. And that isn’t fair either. And you shouldn’t say things that aren’t true, not unless--”

“Not unless you really have to,” she finishes for him, still scowling.

His smile widens. Does she know he’s proud of her? He tells her. Too often. But does she really know it, amid all the pain she carries? Not all of it is pain he can ease.

“And?” he prompts.

“And you should always be fair,” she recites. “Because that’s the most important.” She still looks bored, but she’s puffing out her chest a little, like she’s proud that she remembers.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“But I wasn’t being unfair! I was just saying—!”

He stands up. “Walk with me.”

The look she gives him is dubious, but she stands too. “Where are we going?”

He reaches out a hand. She curls her hand around one of his fingers, grips it more tightly than necessary, and follows.

###

The doors open to light so bright he sees her squint against it.

He doesn’t know the word she breathes in her native tongue, but he doesn’t need his implant to hear the awe in it. 

A canopy of leaves stretches overhead. Most are green. He’s found that on most worlds, plants draw their nourishment in similar ways. Their branches bow, heavy with fruit, and he smiles.

There is no sun here. Not really. He cannot give them that. Just as he cannot give his daughter what she yearns for now. But he can give them light and nutrients and hope that is enough.

Below the trees sprouts a bright carpet of flowers of every color and shape. Some grow from the ground and others on bushes thick with blooms. Their scent fills the air, and Gamora’s nostrils flare. She laughs and rushes forward before she remembers to stop herself and look back at him.

“Go ahead, little one. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t mean to let you walk among them.”

She dashes toward a flowering bush with all her formidable speed.

He shakes his head and chuckles. “But if you touch anything, do it with care. It took… time and effort to make sure all of them would grow.”

She turns around again, her nose half buried in an aromatic blossom. “You grew these?”

“I did. On my home world, I grew gardens.”

She looks up. “Do you miss them?”

“Very much.”

“Are these… are these from your home?”

“Some of them. They… grow better here than they did there.”

Her eyes widen, and the nod she gives him is solemn. _Thank you, daughter._

She turns away and studies the bush, perhaps too closely. “Not all of them are from Titan?”

“I’ve visited many worlds, Gamora. You know that.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Sometimes when I feel sorrow, I come here and rest.”

She looks up at the indigo branches of a Marvan tree. “Yeah,” she says again, the catch still in her voice.

“If you want, you may stay here. But only until your afternoon lesson.”

She wastes no time in sitting down, crossing her legs like she’s meditating. “Okay.”

“And when you come back out, you must be calm. No storming through the hallways. And no picking fights with your siblings.”

Her mouth curls. “But they—!”

He holds up a hand. “ _No_ , Gamora. They’ve done nothing to you. Not this time.”

She scowls.

“When you come out, you must be calm,” he says again. “Otherwise I will have to punish you. I will have no choice.”

She lets out a shuddering sigh and looks up at him. “Yes, Father,” she says after a moment.

He nods and says nothing. His lips twist into a wry little smile.

“Thank you, Father,” she says, and closes her eyes.

He looks at her for a long moment before he turns to go.


End file.
